


We'll Be Dating To the End of Time

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dating, F/F, Humor, The Doctor is hopeless at romance, Time Travel, human-alien relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 17:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: The Doctor tries taking Yaz on some nice, calm,normaldates. It goes about exactly as well as you'd imagine.





	We'll Be Dating To the End of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



> With thanks to Persiflage for the beta, as ever!

**One**

“So, Doctor,” said Yaz, finally screwing her courage to the sticking point and going for it. If she could face down universal threats, monsters, and horrors from the past, she could do this, too. Right? “How would you feel about going on a date?”

“A date? Sounds like fun. Why not?”

Yaz blinked. She’d thought it’d have taken at least a bit more explaining than that, but she broke into a relieved smile. “You want to? That’s – that’s brilliant!”

“Well, of course,” said the Doctor, only slowly lifting her head up from the console – could a person be jealous of a Time and Space Machine? Yaz thought she might be. “Only, any date in particular? Because we’ve got the lot travelling by TARDIS. I seem to remember the 6th of September 2317’s quite nice.”

Right. That was more along the lines of the sort of reaction Yaz had expected. She drew in a breath, determined to do it. The Doctor was the best person she’d ever met, and she wasn’t going to not give this a try. She’d spend the rest of her life kicking herself otherwise. “No. Like a _date_ date. Me and you and . . . er . . . dinner for two somewhere at the end of the universe?”

“Milliways?” said the Doctor, screwing up her face. “Well, if you really, really want, but I can’t say I’ve ever been keen on the menu.”

Yaz waited hopefully for the rest of the penny to drop. “I don’t mind where. If you’ve got ideas, that’s great.”

“Wait,” the Doctor said, waving her hands about as she worked it out, “you mean a _date_ date. Ooh, can’t remember the last time I went on one of those! Mind you, if it’s the one I’m thinking of, it lasted for twenty-four years. Unless you count the talking frog. Do we count the talking frog?”

Yaz wondered exactly how you replied to any sentence that involved a talking frog, because she was probably going to have to learn if she wanted to do this. And she definitely wanted to do this.

“And with you, Yaz? With brilliant, amazing Yasmin Khan? How I could I turn that down?” Then the Doctor turned. “You _did_ mean with you, didn’t you? Because if you meant the talking frog, we should get that straight right now.”

Yaz gave a smile. All in all it had gone pretty well, given the Doctor. “Yes, I meant me.”

Although, she had to admit that now she wasn’t only sort of jealous of a time machine, she was kind of jealous of a universe disguised as a frog and entities unknown who went on dates that lasted for twenty-four years. The competition was bizarre, you could say that much. She suspected the dates might not be much less so.

* * *

**Two**

“Run!”

“I _am_ running!”

The Vikings tearing after them gave a roar at having them in their sights again. Yaz grabbed at the Doctor, pulling her out of the way of a spear thrown after them.

“Oh, good shot!” said the Doctor, turning round to give a wave.

Yaz twisted her head back. “Doctor!” she gasped. “What were you saying about running?”

“Oh, yes. At the double, Yaz!”

 

Back inside the TARDIS, as Yaz hung onto the TARDIS to keep from collapsing, a painful stitch in her side, but safely out of the way of any angry ninth century warriors, the Doctor pulled down the dematerialisation switch.

“Well,” she said, “I know that didn’t end so well, but it was quite a nice picnic until that Sven bloke turned up, wasn’t it? So,” and she almost looked a little bashful, “as a date, how would you rate it?”

* * *

**Three**

“To be fair,” said the Doctor, “you _did_ say something about spending some quality time together, which this is. And, honestly, it’s quite a nice cell. I’ve been in worse.”

Yaz leant back against the cold stone of the wall, feeling the damp working its way into her bones, arms chained from the ceiling. She gave them another tug, but they still held firm. She’d have liked to ask what _would_ have constituted a worse cell, but she was pretty sure the Doctor would tell her, and at length.

“Well, it’s not what I had in mind,” she said.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Next time, I promise to do the date thing properly – nice restaurant, small talk, all that sort of thing. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

* * *

**Four**

“Doctor,” said Yaz, trying to sound casually conversational, which wasn’t the easiest thing right now, “do you, er, have tentacles?”

It was an important question, because a tentacle was definitely easing its way up her leg. At first contact, Yaz had assumed it was the Doctor and had been kind of impressed. She’d thought the Doctor would probably need scientific diagrams for how to get that far in human-alien relations, but now she was getting worried about what or who was caressing her leg. Not that she wanted to be offensive about alien biology. She was up for tentacles, if the Doctor had them. Just they needed to be the Doctor’s or she was officially freaked out. Again.

It was particularly weird because this was 1920s New York and not the sort of place she’d expected to find alien tentacles if they weren’t the Doctor’s.

“No, not yet,” said the Doctor, spearing her carrots with a fork. “I’ve often thought about it, but regeneration’s really hard to get right. Look how long it took me just to get the female setting.” She examined her carrot with interest. “One of my friends used to have a big thing for carrots.” She took a bite, and then shook her head. “Nope. Still don’t get it.”

Yaz froze and then gave a short squeak and leapt out of her seat. “Doctor! Then whose tentacle _is_ this?”

 

The Doctor returned some minutes later, breathless and triumphant if covered in viscous orange goo, and then calmly sat back down at their table, despite the stares of the other diners and the uniformed waiters. She picked up her fork again and smiled at Yaz. “Don’t worry. All sorted now. Embarrassing mistake all round, but you can’t have people nicking your date. That’s just rude.” 

Yaz tried not to stare as hard as everyone else, and failed. “Um, Doctor, I think you dripped whatever that is into your dinner.”

“Oh, so I did,” she said, and grinned, before pronging more veg with her fork. “Mmm, improved the carrots no end. Want to try one?”

* * *

**Five**

The Doctor leaned across the posh box of an eighteenth century London theatre, lowering her voice to a stage whisper so as not to disrupt the performance, even if that was more than you could say the rest of the audience. “So, you’re a police person, Yazmin Khan. You don’t have any hand cuffs on you, do you?”

Yaz choked. “What?”

“I was thinking, see, if you did, that I could use them for practice. My personal best used to be down to five seconds and if I let it fall much under that, it could be a matter of life or death.”

Yaz turned her head slowly. “Personal best?”

The Doctor nodded. “For getting out of them. You know how it is.” She grinned. “I get arrested a lot.”

“Yeah, I was beginning to get that impression.”

“Anyway, never mind that,” said the Doctor, turning her attention back to the actors on the stage, “does that lead guy look like a Zygon to you? Wait, I’ve got a thingy somewhere that goes ding when there’s a Zygon… or is that still in my other coat? And which other coat?”

Yaz stared at the stage. It was hard to tell who might be human or not human as yet; she was mostly wondering when actors got around to inventing naturalism, because it definitely didn’t seem to be a thing in this production. Of course, it could just be this production, not the century. “What’s a Zygon?”

“Him!” said the Doctor, pointing as the lead actor’s surprisingly convincing doppelganger made his entrance. “Or him. It’s hard to tell. That’s why you need a thing that goes ding when there’s Zygons. Of course,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “some of them are fine – good friends of mine actually – and if this one’s taken to being a thesp, maybe we should leave them to it?”

Yaz could feel yet another date slipping away. “We should probably make sure, though.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, and slipped her hand into Yaz’s and leant in closer to say into her ear, “afterwards, we go get his autograph!”

* * *

**Six**

“So, how would you rate this one?”

The Doctor and Yaz were bound back to back by steel cords and were currently engaged in shuffling their way along the long cargo bay of the twenty-fifth century hyperliner while security officers shouted and fired at them.

“For you, it’s probably about a five,” said Yaz. “Minus sixty on anybody else’s scale. I’ll let you know if we get out of it alive!”

* * *

**Lucky Seven**

“Right,” said the Doctor. “I’ve been thinking about the perfect date – guaranteed no aliens, no tentacles, angry armed humans, weird genius loci or anything else like that. Not even any evil penguins.”

Yaz laughed. “Somehow I bet something’d still turn up. How about we stay in this time?”

“In the TARDIS?”

Yaz gave a nod.

“Oh, well, that’s cool. I’ve got a whole list of repairs and improvements I need to work on. You can hand me my sprockets and spanners!”

Yaz laughed and moved forward to put a hand on the Doctor’s arm. “Staying in, yes. No repairs, no spanners.” She stretched to kiss the Doctor’s cheek. “I’ve got other ideas.”

“Not even a tiny repair?” said the Doctor. “Wouldn’t take even a millisecond – well, maybe three or four or so.”

“Not on a first date.”

The Doctor said, “Hey, this isn’t –”

“The others don’t count! I mean, they were interesting, Doctor, and you’re amazing, but they weren’t what I call a proper date.”

“This one does seem nicer already,” the Doctor agreed. “So, no repairs, no peril – is more kissing all right? I haven’t done any kissing in this body yet, so I might be rubbish at it. I’m pretty sure I was rubbish at it last time. Or was it the time before? Luckily I knew people who –”

Yaz kissed her on the mouth.

“– did that, yes.”

“I’m shocked,” said Yaz and held out her hand. “Know any nice quiet corners in this place? We wouldn’t want your kissing skills to get rusty, either, would we?”

“Walk this way,” the Doctor said, putting her arm around Yaz. “I know exactly the place. Very quiet. Completely perfect. With cushions on the floor and stars on the ceiling. Pretend stars, that is. Real stars would just be silly. But quiet, yes. Promise.”

*

As a date, Yaz rated it eight out of ten and the two marks were only deducted because it turned out that there were some weird alien parasites hiding out in that particular corner of the TARDIS, but as they didn’t discover that until nearly an hour afterwards when the Doctor realised she had a potentially fatal infestation in her pockets, it had all been pretty great up until then.

And that was at least one way to get the Doctor out of her clothes, so it wasn’t all bad.

Maybe, Yaz concluded, a smile growing on her face at the memory, it might be a nine, after all. Possibly even a ten…


End file.
